


Chicken Wings Don't Fly

by Yotsubadancesintherain5



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yotsubadancesintherain5/pseuds/Yotsubadancesintherain5
Summary: There was mild confusion for the soul that recieved that chicken.





	Chicken Wings Don't Fly

There were thousands of souls that went to visit their families, and one in particular walked with a dance in his step as he crossed the marigold bridge. He had gone a little earlier than the rest of his family. This particular soul, Gabriel, came from a family of cooks. To list out their accomplishments would be difficult and take many years, but it would have also been difficult to stay away from their cooking. Gabriel's first memories were of pots and pans, various simmering soups and stews, a warmth that spread out around the whole house.

His family members had their own specialties in the kitchen, but none could have matched his father's mother. She was an expert in everything, but Gabriel's favorite of her cooking was her pan dulce. He would shove the bread in his mouth when he was a child, earning harsh admonishment from his parents when they would catch him. Then he would wash down the pan dulce (sometimes stuck in his throat, though he would never admit that) with his grandmother's hot chocolate. It was the perfect hot chocolate in all the world to Gabriel, and nobody could replicate it when his grandmother passed on.

As Gabriel grew older he began to learn to cook as well, trying to find his specialty. His inspiration came from when he was nearly a teenager, and was goaded by his siblings and cousins to eat the hottest chicken in the world. He piled on the hot sauce, various peppers, and spicy liquids until the chicken was more an amalgamation of spices than meat. He spent the rest of that day with plain bread in his mouth, and the sides of his mouth burning horribly. But he wanted to find that perfect balance, and so found that spiced chicken was his specialty. When he passed on his family would bring him this in remembrance.

He smiled when he found his family's offerings to him in the graveyard, marked as such by a piece of paper taped to cardboard. It read, "For Papá Gabriel Ramírez," by a child's handwriting and a picture of a crayon heart. But when Gabriel looked in the bowl, the chicken was gone. He looked all around, confused, but shrugged his shoulders. There was other food, and perhaps there was somebody that needed the chicken desperately.

And there was always next year, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> A plot bunny that hopped up because I thought, "Hey, uh, Miguel, somebody was going to eat that!" when he threw that chicken for Dante.
> 
> I took two meals here from my own childhood. My mom and I used to go to the market near our condo and I would get pan dulce - I thought that the Beast's eyebrows looked like the sugar! And we would go to Spanish mass at night on Sunday, and during the winter they would hand out hot chocolate.


End file.
